


Prochronism

by EriksChampion



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 13:16:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4921066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EriksChampion/pseuds/EriksChampion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryou doesn't design the games, he just writes the stories.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prochronism

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CardiacCrisis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CardiacCrisis/gifts).



> Thank you to CardiacCrisis for providing me with this opportunity! : )

“A prochronism occurs when an item appears in a temporal context in which it could not be present.” (Wikipedia)

-xxx-

Ryou stared at the face of his watch. It was a skeuomorph—one of those comforting artefactual touches that Yuugi had added to make the game world feel more familiar. Time ran faster within the game; the watch was there to ensure that Ryou never forgot where that time actually came from.

“Ryou,” Yuugi’s voice chirped in his earpiece. “It’s been five minutes. You have to get moving.”

“I know,” Ryou sighed. “Sorry. I’ll get right to it.”

Ryou’s headset, of course, was another skeuomorph. Ryou often wondered why Yuugi insisted on filling in all these distracting details. He shrugged. He would have been just as content to talk into the sky. Or to himself.

“I know it’s kind of boring,” Yuugi mumbled.

“Don’t say that.” Ryou stood up, stretched, and began to survey his surroundings. “It’s quite lovely. It’s just that there’s nothing for me to _do_ here.”

That wasn’t completely true. In addition to the watch and the headset, Ryou had been outfitted with a military-grade backpack packed with clipboards, checklists, drafting paper, and—he had noticed with a small twinge—freeze-dried rations, a flashlight, and a first aid kit. There was probably more—Ryou hadn’t bothered to conduct a thorough inventory. But the bag was quite heavy. The straps bit into his shoulders and made his neck ache. Apparently Yuugi had felt that this particular detail was necessary.

Ryou rummaged through the bag and pulled out his first packet of evaluation forms. This one was labeled “Natural Objects and Scenery.” He flipped through the first few pages.

_On a scale of 1 to 10, evaluate the realism of the following natural features:_

_Streams/water flow_

_Wave movement_

_Ponds/standing water_

_Coastlines/water-land interface_

_Water clarity_

_Water temperature_

_Water texture_

_Water viscosity_

_Water turbidity_

_Water taste_

_Water heat capacity_

_Water refractive index_

_Water reflectivity_

_Water surface tension_

_Water density_

_Water compressibility_

_Water vapor pressure_

_Water conductivity_

 

“Ryou…are you still there?”

“Y-yes!” Ryou shook his head. “Sorry, Yuugi! I’m just feeling slightly out of my depth here. I’m not sure that I’m an expert on…” He squinted down at the form. “Water viscosity. Or any of this, really. How am I supposed to tell how realistic it is?”

“You just touch it. See if it feels right to you.”

Ryou wrinkled his nose. “So, uh, in terms of realism, what exactly is the difference between a four and a five for water viscosity?”

“I don’t understand.”

“There’s no scale. What do I compare the numbers to?”

Yuugi paused. “There’s…a certain degree of subjectivity. Just do the best you can. Be as accurate and provide as many details as you can—that will make it a lot easier to analyze the results.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier to give me some kind of…I’m not sure…a tool that measures water viscosity? I think that would give you more accurate feedback.”

Yuugi sighed and Ryou winced. Yuugi only sighed that way when he was asked to repeat the same idea too many times. They must have had this conversation before.

“It doesn’t work that way. Here, I’ll explain it again. So sure, I could have simulated a viscometer, but then how would I be able to test the viscometer to know that my simulation of it worked? What if the design for my viscometer was all wrong? If it was, then I wouldn’t be any closer to knowing if the water simulation was correct. It’s all algorithms, Ryou. The only way to know if the algorithm works is to send someone in and ask them if it feels realistic. And well, you’re the best person to make that call.”

Ryou continued staring at his watch. “How does _this_ work, then?”

Yuugi didn’t respond, so Ryou shrugged and turned towards the oasis—hovering in the haze on the horizon. He sighed.

Five minutes into his journey Ryou was glad that Yuugi had packed him sunscreen and a brimmed hat.

The sun was very hot. The air was very dry. Ryou had never trekked across a desert before. He had no idea whether he should rate this experience as a six or a seven. He certainly wasn’t enjoying it, which he assumed meant that it must be a fairly realistic rendering. But—Ryou stopped, biting his lip—was this how he _wanted_ it to feel?

Ryou gazed over the landscape—peaks and valleys of sand, the wind that picked it up and blew it directly into his face, the mountains in the distance, the oasis, the sky…A sea of rapidly firing neurons that on their own meant nothing, but somehow, when activated in the correct combination, made him feel like he was somewhere else.

His hand flickered to the headpiece, but he didn’t speak.

Ryou turned back towards the oasis, then continued his plodding.

“Command: Add to project development notes,” Ryou muttered. “Remember to add some kind of interesting features between entry point three and the oasis in arena nine. All this walking is boring.”

-xxx-

Ryou immediately regretted the fact that he had agreed to evaluate arena nine, “City Outskirts and Unoccupied Desert Territory,” before Yuugi had simulated the vegetation. What he referred to as the oasis had all the aesthetic appeal of a suburban swimming pool, and with no shade the sand was unpleasantly warm.

Ryou kneeled and dipped his hand into the water. It was wet. It was cooler than the air temperature. It was fairly still, the surface only rippling slightly in the wind. He could see his reflection in it, slightly distorted. It made his hand shiny. A few drops fell off his fingertips and made dark, damp circles in the sand. His skin felt slightly cooler where the water was beginning to evaporate. It seemed like an acceptable facsimile of water.

Ryou twisted his lips, furrowed his brows, and continued trying to make observations.

The water in the pool was dark, blue-green, and looked deep. He could not see all the way to the bottom of the pool. But the water on his fingertips was clear—he could look right through it.

“You did a good job, Yuugi.”

Ryou heard Yuugi release a sigh of relief. “I’m glad you like it.”

“I’m not sure that I _like_ it,” Ryou muttered. He looked at the empty landscape and surrounded him. In the distance, it looked like there were hundreds of other oases sizzling on the horizon.

“Is there anything you want me to change?”

“Hm…” Ryou dipped his fingers into the sand. The sand clung to them where the water had been. It made them itch.

Ryou could hear Yuugi’s silence on the other end of his earpiece. “Maybe it could be…more blue?”

“Okay! Hang on. This will just take a moment.” Ryou could hear Yuugi typing away on the other end of the line. “Give the command to refresh.”

“Command: System refresh.” The sky flickered and dimmed. Where a few clouds had been just a moment before, Ryou now saw a large, white pop-up window. It was brighter than the sun had been.

_Confirm system refresh?_

“Confirm.”

The world turned off, and Ryou stopped existing. For a moment, he half-imagined that he could feel his own clammy hands back in his immersion pod in Domino, and the electrodes clinging to his forehead—but it was just a cobweb of a sensation, blown out and swept away before he had a chance to settle into it. And then, with a jolt of flashing light and sound, he was alive again—as if nothing had ever changed.

Except, Ryou had to admit, the water was slightly more blue.

“So what do you think?”

Ryou tried to make his voice smile. “It’s lovely.” He groaned and gave up. “Oh, I don’t know, Yuugi. You know that these types of details aren’t important to me.”

Ryou wasn’t sure whether Yuugi ever replied.

A long, jagged shadow passed over the sand. It fell across Ryou’s shoulders and made them buckle. It squeezed the air out of his lungs, made him feel too cold and too hot at the same time, made his heart flash and beat neon. Ryou sweated and shivered.

The shadow clawed at the nape of his neck. It made a bitter, splintering sound, like something being ripped apart. It tasted like spent coal and wood smoke.

Ryou was sure that it was much more than just a shadow.

He slowly turned around.

“Um, Yuugi…” Ryou stuttered into his mouthpiece, trying to keep from swallowing his tongue. “You haven’t rendered any—characters—have you?”

“Of course not. Why do you ask?”

“No reason!” Ryou slapped his hand over his mouthpiece and continued in a shrill whisper. “Bakura--you’re not supposed to be here!”

Bakura raised his brows, but otherwise appeared nonplussed. Ryou supposed he should have expected that reaction.

“Is that so?” His voice was like a coil of a thick, smooth chain.

Ryou scrambled to his feet, trying to ignore the way he sunk and staggered on the sand. “Well—yes!”

Bakura shifted his weight onto one leg and crossed his arms. “Says who?”

Ryou stuck out his chin and jabbed his chest. “I do.”

“And why should I listen to you?”

“Well—” Ryou paused. “This is my world. And I created you.”

He laughed. His laughter was as broad as his shoulders, as thick and muscular as his legs, as dark as his skin, as piercing as his eyes, and as jagged as the scar that ran down his cheek. “You—” The word swam with contempt—contempt for Ryou’s knobby knees, pasty skin, the way his eyes seemed to bulge out his face. “ _You_ created _me_? I don’t believe it.”

 “Well, I did. Or—I will. You see, I know you’re not supposed to be here…because I haven’t written you yet.”

Bakura raised an eyebrow and began to slowly, deliberately, crack his knuckles. He took a step closer. “ _Written_ me?” He bit his lip. A small bead of blood sprung up under his tooth. “Explain.”

“Well, I—I came up with the idea of you. I developed your backstory, I planned out your character arc, I decided how you look, how you act. I named you.”

“Prove it.” He spoke halfway between a chuckle and a snarl. He peered down at Ryou through narrowed eyes, as if trying to dig the lie out of him.

“Well, okay, I can do this: Command: view inventory.” Ryou’s backpack sprung off his shoulders and exploded its contents across the sand. Ryou winced. “I guess Yuugi hasn’t fine-tuned that maneuver yet…”

Bakura watched idly as Ryou’s compass rolled away. “ _Impressive_.”

“Oh, shut up,” Ryou grumbled. “I don’t do this stuff. Yuugi does the graphics, I just write the story. And I _do_ know the story…” He paused. “I know that you were orphaned as a child when your village was attacked by the Pharaoh’s armies. You didn’t understand why, and you were all alone, and it made you hate him, so you swore you would get revenge on the Pharaoh and his entire kingdom. But then the original Pharaoh died and—”

Ryou gasped as Bakura seized a handful of his shirt and pulled him close enough for Ryou to taste the carrion and rot on his breath.

“ _How do you know that?!_ ”

“I _told_ you. I made you. I decided these things.” He coughed. “Would you let me go? You’re—Yuugi explicitly prohibited physical interaction between characters in this game. You’re not supposed to be able to do this…”

Bakura only tightened his grip. Ryou felt as if he were grinding him between his teeth. “Well, _Creator_ ,” he spoke slowly, abrasively, chewing on his words until they were blistered and raw. “If it’s true that you decide my fate, then perhaps it’s you I should—exterminate.” He grinned like acid and rust.

“That—um—that would be a very bad idea. If you killed me then you would stop existing too. You—” Ryou tried to make his voice, his gaze, cool and level as slate. “You need me.”

Bakura’s eyes burned. “You’re wrong, Creator.” He snatched Ryou’s wrist with his other hand, drew his fingers to his mouth, and sank his teeth into one of Ryou’s knuckles. “I can _use_ you.”

The world turned off again. This time was worse than before—it felt like infinite falling, like static and the cacophony of a busted television. When Ryou opened his eyes again, he had a headache. And Bakura was gone.

“Sorry about that, Ryou,” Yuugi squeaked. “You were being unresponsive—I had to force restart. Is everything okay?”

“Yes—I’m fine, just…Did you notice anything else unusual?”

“No, but…” Yuugi paused. “I’m feeling weird about this. The computer shouldn’t have done that. Maybe you better come back up, and I’ll try to sort it out.”

Ryou tried to rub his wrist, but recoiled and flinched at the pain that shot up his arm. Bakura had left behind five thick, red bruises. And, it took Ryou a moment to notice, his watch had gone. He gazed at the horizon, and at the thin trail of footprints leading off into the distance.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to keep exploring for a little while longer.”

“Uh…I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m concerned about—”

Ryou never learned what Yuugi was concerned about. He stripped off his headset and left it to lie on the ground.

-xxx-

Ryou moved much faster without the backpack and without the evaluation forms.

He followed the rhythm of Bakura’s footprints as if they were musical notes left scattered across the sand. And as he listened to them, he became blind to the landscape.

Bakura’s path was meandering and opaque. Even as Ryou stared into his footprints he felt like all he could see was negative space.

“I don’t recall seeing this place on the map,” Ryou whispered to himself, stumbling through puddles of shadow. “Did Yuugi really make this?”

He stared into dark, gaping mouths of caves. The wind rolled through them low and cool and deep. Ryou shivered, as if his skin no longer knew what to do with everything that was inside it. He held his breath and listened. He rolled in the wind too, caught a warm, thin vein that swam through the darkness, and tugged on it. He drank from it, he pulled it open like a scab until it bled; and when the blood has washed away he found himself once again standing in Bakura’s shadow.

Ryou stayed silent for a moment, watching him. Everything about him was locked and knotted. Ryou’s fingers itched for a flashlight.

He finally found his voice.

“You took my watch.”

Bakura smirked. “You mean _this_?” He pulled Ryou’s watch out of a fold in his cloak. “So what? You didn’t want it. I, at least, can make it useful.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

Bakura shrugged. “That doesn’t matter. There are plenty of fools in the city that will pay a high price for this kind of sorcery.” He turned back to Ryou slowly. “It’s alright, Creator—there is no shame in admitting that you simply wanted to see me again…”

Ryou twitched at the edges. “You’re not supposed to be here…”

“Neither are you. And yet, here we are.”

“No, you’re wrong—I _am_ supposed to be here. I have a job to do, I—” Ryou reached over his shoulder for the backpack that wasn’t there. His hands opened and closed around the clipboard that he had left behind. “Well, I did have something to do.” He chuckled. “I could have ranked the realism of these caves…”

Shadows dug deeper into Bakura’s face. “What do you mean?”

Ryou shook his head. “Oh, it’s nothing. That’s just why I was sent in here. To rate the accuracy of the scenery. It’s…” He sighed. “It’s quite boring, actually. Realism has never been my top priority.”

Bakura was staring intently at the face of Ryou’s watch.  “This is quite odd.” He looked up at Ryou—eyes narrowed, chewing on the tip of his tongue. “Who are you really?”

“I told you!” Ryou rolled his eyes. “I never should have made you so suspicious, this is exhausting. But then again,” He gazed at Bakura’s eyes—the way they seemed so sharp and so hollow. “I guess, given your background, there’s really no avoiding it.”

“Then, Creator,” Bakura slunk closer. “I suppose you wouldn’t mind answering a few of my _questions_?”

“Well, I don’t know about that…” Ryou tried to keep his voice and his spine straight. “I don’t think it would be fair.”

Bakura snorted. “ _Fair_ —really? I don’t see anything particularly _fair_ about this situation.”

“I mean it wouldn’t be fair to the other characters. I can’t allow you to know more than they do. The story just wouldn’t work that way.”

“But, Creator, you’re already here. You went out of your way to pursue me. Why shouldn’t I be rewarded?” Bakura was so close that Ryou felt as if they were standing in the same skin. He grinned, reaching deeper into his cloak. “I _do_ have my ways of procuring information…”

“I’m afraid it won’t be that easy.” Ryou stared up into Bakura’s eyes, burning under their red-hot glare. “You can’t do anything to me unless I give you permission.” His voice was steady this time, and harder. It shot out of him like a bullet and ricocheted around the caves, making every surface ring. Ryou bunched up his face, poured himself into a narrow point of concentration, and watched  as Bakura’s face inched down towards his collarbone.

“What are you doing?!” Bakura cried. “Why am I shrinking?!”

Ryou shrugged. “That’s what you get for threatening me. Are you going to behave now?”

 “Change me back!”

Ryou frowned and crossed his arms. “I see no reason to do that.  So, now that you’ve seen what I can do, are you going to tell me how you got here?”

Bakura glared up at him for a long moment. Ryou could tell that it was long without even having to consult his watch. “Isn’t that obvious, Creator—Ryou _Bakura_?”

“It’s just a filler name…”

Bakura continued to stare. It was only now, when his gaze was so winnowing and unbroken, that Ryou noticed that Bakura never blinked.

“Is that so?” He spoke as quietly as an unlit match. He stretched upward until they were nearly eye-to-eye, then cupped Ryou’s chin in his hand. “A Creator should know how to keep tabs on his creation.”

“I guess I’m not very good at that yet.” Ryou’s whisper fell between Bakura’s fingers and dripped down his arm.

“That certainly _appears_ to the case.”

“But I want to understand.” Ryou reached out, tentatively, and traced the edge of Bakura’s cheek. He had the sensation of beating on a hollow drum and feeling, somehow, that same strange music echoing inside him. “You’ll show me, won’t you? You’ll show me what I can do.”

Ryou caught Bakura’s words before they escaped his lips. He molded them in his fingers like wet clay until their shape was something that neither of them could recognize.

Bakura released him and gave him a small bow. “Of course, Creator. I will tell you anything that you want to know.”

Ryou smiled. “That’s better.” His hand slipped from Bakura’s cheek, down his forearm, encircled his wrist. He stared at the lines which kept their hands apart—expertly engineered shadows, the illusion of depth and of distance.

“Do you want your watch back?”

“Wha—no. You can keep it. I don’t want to see it again.”

A silky silence settled in the air between them.

“What else can I do?” Ryou asked, not sure who he was speaking to.

He intertwined his fingers with Bakura’s and got lost in the labyrinth they made.

“Come here,” he said, leading Bakura out, back towards the sun. “Show me what I can do.”

“I don’t believe that there are any formal limitations. I would appreciate it if you didn’t make me any shorter.”

“We’ll see.” Ryou smiled.

They stepped out onto the earth and cast a single shadow—long and thin, bobbing on the current of the strawberry-lemonade sunshine. Ryou rose to meet it, expanded outward, saw all of the sky and swallowed it. He sank down below the earth and disappeared into dirt. He left his footprints empty.

He was a cloak and dagger, a sour grin and squinting eyes. He stared down the Pharaoh’s armies and when he met them he tightened and turned red hot and laughed.

Ryou laughed. Laughed.

I’m just a spirit trapped in a carcass. None of this is real—none of it _matters_.

I can leave it behind.

I can be anything. Anything.

Water running backwards, time giving way to sand, soft white air that tasted like cream.

If this place, then anywhere. If him, then anyone.

It’s all there, all in the place where our hands meet and melt together like unfocused time.

Where our hands meet.

His and mine.

Because we are apart.

Ryou felt something tugging on his arm, shaking his shoulders. He knew he had shoulders because they hurt.

“W-what is this?!” Ryou tried to shake the feeling away. It made the sky rough.

Bakura frowned at him. “I don’t see anything.”

“Make it stop!” Ryou cried, swatting at his arm. “Leave me alone!”

“Ryou…”

“Ryou! Ryou can you hear me!”

Yuugi’s voice sounded like someone had bitten holes in it.

“W-what…” Ryou’s body hurt. He was cold. He was sitting down. Yuugi was shaking his shoulders.

Ryou opened his eyes. Yuugi was leaning over him. His eyes were wide and watery. His lips were quivering. His face was pale. Ryou supposed that this must mean that he was worried. It was, he had to admit, a very good imitation.

“Ryou, _what happened_? You stopped responding then you just disappeared and—oh— _what happened to your hand_?”

Ryou rubbed his temples. The lights in the lab hurt. His skin hurt.

Ryou looked down at his hand. It was hanging off his wrist at an improbable angle. Like a panoramic distortion.

“I guess I must have broken it.”

 

 


End file.
